Your Face is All That I See
by VinylAndFlowers
Summary: Peeta/OC. Based on Mockingjay. Major fluff. A story based on what would have happened if Peeta hadn't gotten over his hijacking in regards to Katniss, and Katniss hadn't developed feelings for Peeta. Please review, this is my first story in about 4 years so I'm rusty! Rated M for possible future lemons.
1. Dr Lockhearst

Chapter One

"..and if we burn, you burn with us".

The powerfully inspiring words seemed to echo off the sheen, blindingly white walls of the ward as even the patients fell silent to absorb their meaning. This made a significant change – today she was working in the emergency burns unit of the District 13 hospital, where there was usually a resonate hum of the sounds of being bored of constant pain. Even the morphling drips didn't have quite the same calming effect it did in the other departments – burns as deep as these tended to take not only an excruciating physical toll, but cast a seemingly eternal barrier that separated the devastated ex-citizens of District 12 from the residents of their new home, after their had been reduced to nothing but dust in a panicked heartbeat. Dr. Lockhearst had enough sympathy to cover the ward ten times, but in her lifetime she had never experienced something so direly tragic with her own eyes in order to empathize in the way she wished she could.

The stories she could just about string together from the frantic, pain-muffled mumbles of her patients frequently were cause to keep her awake in the small breaks she was designated for sleep. Recently, as a last resort, she had taken to 'borrowing' a high-concentration sleeping tablet from the medicine vault at the end of most of her shifts, just to be able to fall into a dreamless coma for a few hours before she had to do it all again. But despite the nightmares, this was her place – her spiritual home. Her heart belonged to the ritual of curing people on a daily basis, and the beauty of witnessing someone grow from a shivering mess of raw flesh and nerves to a functioning human being under her care gave her a sense of joy that nothing else had ever given her in her life in District 13.

Despite the fact it had been a while since the populations of 12 and 13 had merged into one, wounds like the ones she tended to every day weren't as easy to fix as a bullet wound – sure, you could graft artificial epidermis layers to patients, but the time needed for bodies to accept foreign matter as their own took time – as did psychological healing, in which Dr. Lockhearst was equally trained. In a district where you officially don't exist, it was important to have trained psychotherapists. Mental illness wasn't rare in such a place.

Nonetheless, District 12's tragedy had brought the good with the bad – the pinnacle of the hope in her eyes was now a trainee doctor with the bravest, but most gentle heart she had ever had the pleasure to have known – Primrose Everdeen. Despite her age, only just 14, she was old and wise beyond her time, a quality that could only blossom in the eyes of tragedy, she assumed. Upon her entry in the District along with her mother, as a doctor, too, Prim had been assigned to Dr. Lockhearst as an apprentice doctor; learning the art of fixing a broken body and mind in such dark, desperate times. Prim had provided a beacon of light in her life – only 4 years older than Prim, being assigned such a responsibility gave Dr. Lockhearst hope that she could change another's future for the better. She was also the only person, outside of her family that referred to her as Jessica when no one was listening, providing warmth in such a clinically cold environment. She provided her with the feeling she assumed was similar to having a sister.

Previously being the youngest doctor in the entire district at only 18, it was nice to talk to someone of something close to her age group.

In vast contract to Prim's caring, nurturing nature was her sister, Katniss Everdeen. Equally as strong and empowering, Jessica had never had the chance to meet someone as close to a celebrity as 'the girl on fire'. She doubted Katniss would have time for a mere doctor in between hunting and filming propaganda shorts, and so Jess' view of her was limited to the seemingly two different people she was described; a clumsy, loving sister, and a martyr rebel leader. Nonetheless, she doubted her opinion would be clarified in the near future, as far as she was aware.

Interrupting her train of thought, the moment of bliss finally arrived – the bell. Usually doctors and nurses alike were expected to eat on shift, so the one-a-week allowance for social purposes of eating with the rest of the district were a blessing.

Skin peeling off like wet tissue paper tended to put her off her food.

"…so then I plugged in an extra morphling drip, I know supplies are limited and I shouldn't have, but he really just needed some restful sleep and… Jess?"

"Hm?" as she snapped back into reality, Jess realized she had been blankly staring at her bowl of unappetizing carrot broth and stale end-piece of bread, completely ignoring her tutee.

"I was asking if you approved of my decision, or…" Prim trailed off, frowning in confusion.

"Uh yeah, you can take the afternoon off if you want," Jess said as she tried to wipe the images of singed flesh and missing children from her mind. She tiredly ran her hand across her face, briefly wondering when the last time was that she'd gotten an actual night's sleep.

"Are you okay?" Prim asked in concern.

"…yeah. I'm sorry – I know I have no right to complain of nightmares during the day compared to what you've been through. It's just this is all so new to me, still." Prim smiled at this.

"You have no need to apologise, J—" she looked around, noticing her elders' presence and dreading the lecture she would receive for allegedly disrespecting her mentor.

"—Dr. Lockhearst. But really, I find the best way to function is to occupy yourself. Mine is our work… but that doesn't seem to work for you," she furrowed her brow. Her face lit up for a moment in enlightenment. "I know! My sister's friend Finnick," she gestured to the table of 'severely damaged' citizens, "was prescribed a rope to tie. You could try something similar," she offered.

Jessica instantly felt challenged by this, but quickly realized her anxious state was making Prim's genuine comment seem a lot more intimidating than was true. She sighed.

"It's hard to diagnose and prescribe for your own problems, Prim. It's different." She took a bite of her bread, grateful for the energy it would provide in her later shifts. She had recently lost a lot of weight, and needed all the carbohydrates she could get. "Besides, I just need to get used to it. I'll be okay."

As she had been talking, Jess noticed Prim's attention divert elsewhere behind her. Intrigued, she turned around to see what the fuss was about.

Walking towards them and parting a path in a sea of distressed citizens was the girl that no body would stop talking about – Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire. Or as Prim more casually referred to her, 'my sister'. Intimidated by her presence, Jessica couldn't find any words to come out of her semi-open mouth. It wasn't that she didn't like her, nor that she was scared – it was of pure shock that she couldn't seem to process any syllables.

"Hi Katniss," Prim grinned, moving up a little on the dull grey, yet perfectly polished bench she was sat on, tapping the newly formed space next to her. Katniss managed a smile, although you could tell she was currently undergoing the same thought process Jessica had suffered just a moment ago, although presumably a million times worse.

The moment she snapped back into the present moment was clearly apparent in her eyes. Assessing others' mental processes was second nature to Jess, and she pitied her – the propos and the speeches gave a very distorted image of Katniss Everdeen, and she wondered how she was coping with her torment behind all the cameras.

In an attempt to make conversation, Katniss asked how Prim's day was.

"It's been good, I've been in the second unit of the burns ward. I got to be left all by myself with my own set of patients today – Dr. Lockhearst signed me off for the day to see how I get on." Prim looked at Jess expectantly, and it took a moment for her to understand it was a cue for her part in the conversation.

"Yes, Prim is progressing fantastically. Your mother would be really, really proud." She smiled, and noticed her hands were shaking under the table since they had given up hope on the lukewarm, watery broth. Jess was terribly nervous around people, and noticing her nerves only made them worse. Surprisingly, Katniss looked up for a moment and made unexpected eye contact.  
>"Oh, are you Prim's tutor?" she asked Jess, putting down her spoon for a moment, pausing her meal to speak of her own accord.<p>

"Yes, your sister is a great doctor in the making." She looked down at her food before realizing this was another social cue. "My name is Jessica – it's nice to meet you." She held out her hand to Katniss from across the table, who looked confused before semi-reluctantly shaking her hand. She could tell hand-shaking wasn't common practice where these sisters were from.

"Katniss," she reciprocated, smiling. It may have been her imagination, but Jess thought the form of her lips was genuine when she made her introduction.

Suddenly their greeting was cut short – the interesting looking band around Katniss' wrist began to make a noise. Jess watched as Katniss put her finger up to her ear, receiving information from another end of the line.

"Haymitch I told you to stop contacting me through here, I don't want you in my head all the time." She rolled her eyes, and both Prim and Jess laughed. But it wasn't long before her tone changed from mock-distaste to very, very serious.

Katniss frowned in confusion.

"He… no." She stopped to listen. "He's here? He's really… he's really here?" Her face changed into an expression that Jess couldn't read.

"Excuse me," Katniss announced her leave as she abruptly stood and took off across the cafeteria, leaving her food unattended and abandoned – something that was near enough impossible to pull off in their system.

Prim raised her eyebrows, equally uninformed and confused about her sister's sudden absence. Deciding to ignore it for the purpose of finishing her much needed meal, she picked up the bread that Katniss had hardly touched.

"I guess she won't be needing this now, huh?" Prim smiled and took a bite before offering Jess some.

As she laughed and shook her head in politeness, she sensed a presence looming from behind her. Turning her head once more, she saw two concerned-looking bodyguards waiting behind her.

"Dr. Lockhearst?"

"Yes," Jess answered, a terrible feeling in her stomach developing.

"We're going to need you in the ward. Now. We've had an unscheduled arrival."

Semi-relieved, she stood up and brushed her uniform down of stray crumbs and cleared her throat.

"Of course. May I ask the patients reason I'm needed?" she began to walk, smiling apologetically at Prim as she left, feeling bad for leaving her on her own.

"Both psychiatric and physical assessment is required, and President Coin assured us you were the most qualified.

A sudden rush of pride blossomed in her chest for a mere moment, before she returned to the situation and its apparently enormity. "The patient's name and status, please, gentlemen." Speaking so formally was unfamiliar to her, yet she felt the importance of the situation called for it.

"It's a mental hijacking, on the part of the Capitol, Doctor."

"Peeta Mellark, District 12."


	2. Arrival

The contrast between the cafeteria and the ward was blinding. The last half-hour or so that Jessica had spent with her tutee and friend, Prim, may as well have been in complete silence in the pitch black compared to what she now face. In all her years learning, training and in practice, nothing could have prepared her for this ridiculous commotion. What could they have possibly done to this poor person?

As soon as Jess walked through the door, she was attached with panicked questions in seeking of guidance.

"Doctor, I can't attach the morphling drip, he's too active!"

"He won't stop screaming, Dr. Lockhearst, how are we meant to calm him when he won't let us give him the morphling?"

"He's trying to bite through his restraints, they're coming loose, what are we—"

"Please!" Jess exclaimed, suddenly losing her temper before taking a second to regain her composure. "Please, one at a time. And also if you could all remain calm and behave in an according manner, it may help the patient's situation." She frowned; Jess hated having to use her stern side, but it seemed duty called. Her eyes scanned the sub-room filled with uneasy nurses, and stopped on the most 'together' one she could find.

"Nurse…" she glanced at the nametag, "Domitia. Please could you fill me in?"

Domitia closed her eyes and nodded as she spoke, as if recalling lines that she'd rehearsed for a play.

"Peeta Mellark, eighteen years of age, 5'10" in height, male, lacerations to the wrists and ankles from restraint, in state of severe shock and…" she opened her eyes finally, showing signs of genuine sympathy. "He's been hijacked, Miss. Severely."

Jess sighed. She had only ever read of hypothetical, theoretical situations involving such a despicable method of torture. Closing her eyes briefly, she recounted the symptoms she'd read of; confusion, false memory and most of all, endless and consuming fear. The residual feeling of unease remained in the pit of her stomach, unsure of the request she was about to make.

"Show me to him, please."

As if the existing hum of stress and confusion hadn't been enough, once Dr. Lockhearst entered the soundproofed room, her longing for peace and quiet grew more and more. But this time, the noise wasn't coming from the staff – the pitiful, pained moans mixed with severe distress were coming from the disfigured person on the table.

In the moment Jess entered the room, he was thrashing hysterically, calling out profanities that didn't seem to suit him. A boy just turned a man, but with what could be mistaken for innocence about him, had he not been made so aggressive. His clothes, not yet changed to District 13 standard issue clothing, was ripped in places all over; in some places from general wear and tear and misuse, and in other places surrounded by a ring of dark scarlet, deliberately placed in the process of wounding his tortured body. The lacerations the nurse had described did not cover the horrific nature of the carvings into his flesh – it was apparent he had been restrained for some time. His hair, blood-saturated and matted, held no likeness to the brief images of the charming man District 13 had been shown in their occasional update on the upcoming rebellion. His face, contorted with fear, rage and inexplicable pain was clearly enough to scare trained nurses into how they appeared now – voluntarily pinned to the edges of the room, eager to put a safe distance between themselves and the animal in the centre of the room on the table. But as Jess approached him, her presence seemed to have a calming effect on his consistent writhing, and she was able to see the fear and desperation in his seemingly endless blue eyes.

The other nurses held their breath as Jess approached the table where he lay contorted and bruised – one tried to interject her approach, only to be silenced by a soothing smile. Peeta looked up for the first time, suddenly a long quieter. His previously flailing limbs became still – his eyes fixed on only her face. She wasn't sure what had caused Peeta to cease his retaliation of their help; perhaps fatigue, or the fact that the nurses had become silent. Nonetheless, Jessica placed her hand over his red-stained forehead, and looked him in the eyes to roughly measure the extent of his psychological torment. His breathing slowed from panting to deep breaths: and she wasn't sure, but she could have sworn she'd witnessed a switch to normality activate in his head. Peeta remained silent, but furrowed his brow out of distrust. It was Jess who was first to break the silence.

"Fever. Fetch the morphling, please? And I'm going to need some formula cream from the burns unit for these rope lacerations, they appear to be fairly severe," she instructed the nurses as she verbally assessed her patient's condition. He remained fairly obviously suspicious, which Jessica noticed.

"Peeta, my name is Dr. Lockhearst, I'm going to be taking care of you. We're going to attach a drip to help with the pain, do you want us to put you to sleep for a little while?"

As she asked, a nurse appeared from a side room, holding a needle in one hand and the feed of morphling in the other, before attaching them to their holster. And just like that, upon the mere sight of the needle, the man she had caught a glimpse of in absence of his prescribed madness was gone.

Peeta began to scream manically and toss about on the table, pulling frantically at his restraints. As if on cue, another nurse arrived with a syringe filled with an intravenous version of the miracle medicine Jess relied on to sleep. She rushed to hand it to Jess, before retreating to a reasonably safe distance.

"Peeta," she attempted to calm him. "I need you to stay still for a moment—"

"No!" Peeta cried, on the verge of tears. "No! Keep that stuff away from me, I can't take it any more, please," he begged, his face changing once more to something to be pitied.

Understanding the confusion, and realizing that attempting to explain would be futile in his panicked state, Jess deduced there was no alternative. It was imperative that Peeta was still for the much-needed treatment, and even better if he were asleep to begin the healing process. Jess noticed a man in the corner of the room – his chin length hair dirty and unkempt, his body language telltale of concern.

"Sir, would you mind holding the patient still for a moment?" She only asked because he seemed the most capable presence in the room, but his face showed sadness only topped by Peeta himself – she assumed he must know him in order to feel such sorrow.

After a moment's hesitation, the man uncrossed his arms and complied.

"Sure, sweetheart."

Now under suitable restraint, Peeta was motionless enough for Jess to inject the anesthetic. And within just a few seconds, everyone present once more witnessed the transition between a frantic manipulation of the Capitol, and the innocent man he once was in an unconscious state.

A collective sigh resonated around the room as stress levels returned to normal. Jess looked up at the man who had assisted with putting Peeta to sleep, as the other nurses busied themselves with setting up his IV feeds and positioning him into a more comfortable state.

"Thank you," Jess whispered unnecessarily as she reflected on the treatment Peeta would need, absent-mindedly brushing the hair off his face as she observed his features.

"Do you know him?" The man paused.

"Yeah," he replied, watching Jess' behaviour around his apparent friend. "He's a great guy. It's just," he looked away, "it's just… weird… seeing him like this."

Jess nodded in acknowledgement and ran her hand down her face, thinking of possible treatment solutions for this tortured remainder of a person.

"Can you fix him?" The sudden desperate tone his voice had acquired threw her off. With a sigh of uncertainty, Jess shrugged her shoulders at the enormity of the challenge, and decided to be honest.

"Reverse hijacking is something I've never seen done before. I can't make any promises." She looked down at Peeta's face, and for some reason was filled with a sudden sense of determination to make him better, to get him back to how he was before the Capitol got their hands on him.

"But I'll try," she added louder than she intended, to which the man gave a half smile of appreciation in reply. He turned to leave the room.

"Thank you, Dr. Lockhearst."

"And you, Mr.…" Jess trailed off, awaiting clarification.

"Abernathy," he replied, pausing before the door. "But please, just call me Haymitch."

"It's horrible to see him this way," Prim pressed her lips together, fiddling with the end of her braid as she looked through the one-way glass into the room in which Peeta lay unconscious on a drip feed of painkillers. It had been a few hours since they'd managed to get him down, and since then Prim had been allowed back on shift – before, she had been deemed too young to deal with his frantic state, but since Peeta had been asleep she had come to join Jess on shift.

"You know him, too?" Jess asked, surprised. It seemed everyone knew everyone in District 12.

"Yeah," Prim smiled half-heartedly, and gave a small sigh of melancholy.

Finding herself unusually intrigued in Peeta, Jessica felt the urge to find out more.

"So, I know he went into the games with your sister… twice," she added, recalling the rumors that had gone around the ward and back. "And I know he lived in the same District as you. What else is do you know?" She glanced at Prim, aware that she must appear to be too interested. "From a psychological point of view, of course."

Prim smiled at this, able to see through Jess like glass. She explained as much as she knew – from their fake romance to his kidnapping at the end of the third quarter quell, all the while making it clear she was aware of an interest Jess held in him. But her anecdotes left a question unanswered, the question that Prim knew was coming.

"So… him and Katniss? What are they?"

"I don't know," Prim admitted. "I know they pretended to be in love and that they got engaged and pretended Katniss was pregnant, but that was all to keep them alive. She always made it clear to me that she was indifferent when we were in utter private… and plus," she smiled a little and stopped.

"Plus?"

"She's always had a thing going on with Gale."

"Gale?"

Prim turned to face Jess. "Gale; a guy from our district. They hunted together all the time. In the first games Katniss went in, I used to see Gale watching the screens in The Hob—uh, the Black Market," she clarified, "and his face when Katniss and Peeta had to pretend to be in love. Whoah."

An unexplainable wave of relief rippled through Jess' stomach. "Oh," she nodded, turning once more to observe the sleeping man on the table. It turned out that the romance so longed after by the rich people in the Capitol was all fake… but if it was all fake, why did they go to such extreme lengths to make Peeta hate Katniss? She guessed she would have to find out when he was ready to talk.

To pass some of the time of their shift, which was unusually boring compared to their usual shift (dealing with only one, sleeping patient tended to be slow), Jess decided to excuse herself to visit the bathroom, a façade in order to get some time to herself. Sitting on the edge of the toilet seat with the lid down to rest her legs, she put her head in her hands. Why was she so intrigued by this stranger that hadn't said a word directly to her? A stranger so disastrously psychologically injured that he screamed and cried at the sight of a needle? Standing up to address the imminent threat of bags under her eyes and dismiss the feelings she faced, she stood up to do what she could with her appearance, and sighed at the futility of her effort. Her mid-length blonde hair was disheveled and tangled, her normal flush was absent, leaving behind a pale, ill-looking complexion and her usually piercing green eyes had become dull under the stress of fatigue, taking on a more grey-ish hue. The predicted bags under her eyes were there with a vengeance, this time. It appeared shifts as long as the ones she was currently assigned didn't agree with her body. Of course in her position she was entitled to sign herself off for breaks when needed, within reason, but she couldn't bring herself to leave Peeta, the man she hadn't even met and yet was going to all these lengths for. She shook her head – 'snap out of it,' she thought to herself, and decided that when she returned to the ward, she would be informing her colleagues on shift that she would be returning to her room for a brief sleep. After all, no one would respect a doctor's judgement when she looked about the same as some of her patients.


	3. Waking Up

Chapter Three

Jess woke to an intrusive beeping sound intruding her dreams, where she explored places that didn't exist far away from District 13. Interestingly it was the first time she'd woken up in a long time when she felt… good. Stretching as she rose, she looked around the room – her parents weren't there, still. She guessed they were still at work and would be returning soon; the drawback of working nightshifts as a doctor meant you became fairly antisocial in terms of your family. It was a shame, because she really did miss her parents sometimes, even if it was difficult to talk to them about some things.

Tapping her wristband, she was informed that the time was nine-o'clock at night; her shift began in an hour. Usually she would have just crawled back into bed to get an extra half hour's sleep, but she felt an unexplained urge to go and have a much-deserved shower and make herself look presentable.

"Evening, Prim," Jess announced her presence as she arrived to the ward early, smiling more than usual and with her hair brushed into the right shape. Anyone who knew her and how much effort she put into her appearance for a shift would know this was odd.

"Hey Jess," Prim smiled while frowning, trying to decipher the sudden change in her mood. "Did you sleep well?"

"Considering it was only three hours I did, yeah, I feel much better. Thank you."

Prim yawned and stretched her arms above her head.

"What's the time?"

"It's nearly ten-o'clock," Jess smiled. "You can go."

"But I finish in an hour, are you sure you don't want me to stay and help out?"

Jess smiled at her enthusiasm. "Thanks, but no. You've had a long day, and they overwork you as it is, for your age. Go and see your mom, I'll see you in the morning."

Smiling in appreciation, Prim quickly picked up her satchel and left, efficiently filing her personal belongings in as she left the room, bidding Jess a good night as she left.

With a sigh, she picked up the handover sheet, which usually contained all of her patients' vital information changes in her absence. But this one only had one patient's name: Peeta Mellark. She laughed to herself briefly at how she'd forgotten she'd had such a dramatic decrease in responsibility in number, and checked over his vitals. Pulse, blood pressure and blood oxygen levels were all returning to a stable place at a normal speed; she guessed Peeta being unconscious had something to do with his body starting to repair itself after going through such immense damage. That being said, his vast improvement would usually have filled her with a sense of pride – after all, his recovery was either down to her direct care or direction. But with this particular patient… the thought of him getting better and, furthermore, leaving the hospital to carry on with his life… it brought a new feeling into the pit of her stomach which was neither familiar nor welcome.

As if on cue, the heart rate monitor wired into the observation room directly from Peeta's chest began to beep faster. Not so dramatically as to rouse concern, but enough to signify the one thing that would allow a proper analysis of his condition – he was waking up.

Knowing the glass was only one way and using this to her advantage, Jess allowed herself a mere ten second break from her duty to observe him not as a patient – a system of organs and tissues to be treated as such – but as a man, with a heart and soul. She watched as he slowly came to, his eyes fluttering open to gaze around at his surroundings, looking a little disorientated. He winced briefly at the clinical, bright white lights and sighed. And suddenly, she could see him again; the man that had existed before the Capitol tortured him into a new, warped version of a human. An unexplained smile formed on Jess' face – never before had she felt such a strange attachment to, well… anyone. It was new, to say the least.

With a shake of her head to clear the fuzziness, Jess returned to her usual self, with a job to do.

"Treat the patient, Doctor. Stop being so…" she whispered to herself, trying to find the right word, which escaped her.

The door to the room in which Peeta laid practically helpless, attached to more wires than a puppet, swung open with a gentle push as she was reluctant to alarm him in his condition. He remained still in his position, seemingly acceptant of his vulnerability.

"Mr. Mellark?" Jess called from the doorway, the usual projection and authority of her voice failing her in her nerves.

Peeta's head spun round in response; clearly her attempt to approach him without alarm was failed. But his response was furthermore not what she had expected – he smiled. It was a strange type of smile that she hadn't seen before, she thought. Most smiles Jess had observed in others were smiles of appreciation, polite 'I'm-smiling-because-I-need-to' smiles, or ones in sarcasm – which were also fairly new, courtesy of the new man she had met thanks to Peeta, Haymitch. But this seemed different, somehow; a subtle half-smile, which also spread to his eyes, making them brighter than she'd previously seen. It made her feel like Peeta wasn't just seeing his doctor, an aid to his recovery… he was seeing _her_.

"Hi," he spoke in an exhausted whisper, still maintaining the energy to smile.

"Uh… hi," Jess replied quickly, responding with an awkward single wave of her hand. Ugh, what? "I'm just here to change your drip."

Peeta frowned, confused, as if he wasn't aware he was in a hospital.

"You're nearly out," Jess pointed to the bag of clear, colourless fluid hanging above him.

"Oh," his smile returned. "Thank you."

As she approached his bed, bag in hand, his eyes did not leave her. Although she tried to remain professional but keeping her eyes on the task, she couldn't help but feel his gaze sinking into her skin.

"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked, attempting to add a flirtatious tone to her voice. And failing, probably.

Thankfully, her poor, uneducated effort was returned with what sounded like a mildly embarrassed laugh. At least it wasn't just her.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," Peeta smiled and averted his eyes. He paused. "May I ask your name?"

Jess took a momentary break from changing his morphling drip to pluck up the courage to actually look him in the eye, taking a (hopefully) subtle deep breath. However, her ability to string together a sentence was involuntarily put on hold as her words once again failed her, captured by his gaze.

Clearing her throat, she managed to answer his question as she resumed attaching the correct tubes to the morphling drip feed. "I was told you'd been told about me," she pondered as her brow furrowed. "My name is Dr. Lockhearst."

"Yes, I was told that," Peeta chuckled as he nodded, as if her answer was obvious.

"Then why—"

"I mean your _name_. Your first name. What your friends call you?"

Jess paused. "I don't have many friends. I don't have the time for friends, really," she admitted to herself, momentarily reflecting in the notion.

"Okay," Peeta adjusted his approach as well as his position, propping himself up slightly onto his elbows in interest. "Okay, fine. What do your parents call you?"

This one was inescapable and she guessed he knew that from the cheeky smirk on his face, leaving her in a position she was highly unfamiliar with. No one else usually took this much interest in her; expect Prim, who was already an exception. Was everyone from District 12 so inquisitive?

"Jessica," she finally replied.

"Wow, that's an… interesting name," Peeta commented.

Jess continued to aimlessly fiddle with the morphling drip, although it was already secured. "My parents are librarians. They manage all the books and documents in District 13. Including ones from," she looked around, aware of the constant surveillance and lowered her tone. "Before the war."

"Before your District was attacked?" Jess looked at him, amazed at the speed at which he had caught up in the brief time he'd been here. He replied with a shrug and a small smile. "The nurses told me about the place. I asked a lot of questions," he laughed apologetically.

"Oh, and… no." Jess kept her head down so she couldn't be lip-read by the cameras. "Before. Way before. There are books that survived from the birth of Panem; secret, of course, and far beyond lock and key. My mother, Zenobia, wanted to find unique names for me… and my brother. And she found those in the books that survived the 'rebirth of the world'."

Peeta replied minimally with just a smile exhalation of breath in his surprise. "That's… pretty amazing, actually."

She smiled. "Thank you. But what I just told you about—"

"Don't worry. It's just between you and me," he pressed his lips together in a sincere smile. She nodded once in appreciation and, deciding to linger no more, headed for the door.

"Jessica," Peeta's voice, quiet and unsure, stopped her in her tracks.

"Yes?"

Peeta remained silent for a moment more, breathing in as if he were making a decision.

"You eyes… are a truly beautiful colour."

Taken completely off guard, Jess' hand involuntarily reached up to cover he mouth in embarrassment, before a smile and accompanying blush started to spread across her face. Instead of coming up with a response, she decided to simply glance back and leave.

As the door shut once more and she resumed her position behind the one-way glass, Jess watched as her blushing smile was reciprocated, followed by him shutting his eyes and resting his head on the pillow once more. She couldn't be sure, but she had a feeling from the look on his face that the strange feelings she had been having… maybe weren't just being felt by her. Maybe.


	4. Development

She was running. Through grass and flowers, and trees and plants. Through somewhere that existed far away from the grey toned, air-tight district that she called home. Fresh air, blue sky. But it wasn't the kind of running she had to do at work when she was called to someone going into cardiac arrest; it was a new type of running that she'd never experienced before. It was a joyful type of run, and the whole time there was a feeling of elation rushing through her core, and an unmovable smile on her face. There was no band around her wrist to flash up and tell her where to go, what to do – there were no dying people bound to their beds, relying on her time and effort to revive them. In fact, there was no one there that needed her, except perhaps one; there was a man beside her, holding her hand and running with her. He was a little taller than her, but in her concentration on where she was going to didn't get the chance to look at his face, but she knew he was there, holding onto her as she led them away from District 13 to freedom.

"Jess?"

She turned around to reply to the call of her name and to see his face, but there wasn't one that she could see. It wasn't scary or grotesque, more like a memory from long ago that she couldn't quite make out. But it bugged her and she continued to try and look for his features.

"Jess!"

"Hm?"

"It's 8:30, honey. You start at 9, you're going to be late."

As she sat up and winced in the unwelcome light of her family-shared apartment, her awareness of her surroundings started to grow as her heart shrunk. Here she was, back in that same grey toned, airtight district she had been escaping with the man in her dreams, being told she was going to be late.

"Ok, Mom. Thanks," she ran her hand over her face in her fatigue and sat up, before the very same unexplained smiled grew, despite the brief disappointment.

"It's good to see you," her mother added in a slightly perplexed tone. "You look… happy."

"Do I not usually?"

"Well, no."

"Thanks," Jess retorted as she stood up, before suddenly feeling reluctant to argue with her mother. She never saw her anymore – working night shifts on both of their parts never worked in a social favour, and it seemed as if, recently, fate had kept them apart. Instead, she decided to put her arms around her mother's shoulders. It had been so long since the last time, it was strange to be the same height as her, and not only reach her waist in their embrace.

Her gesture seemed to take Zenobia off guard, who flinched momentarily before returning the favour by placing her arms in a similar position.  
>"This is nice," Zenobia admitted.<p>

Jess replied only by nodding a little sadly, and pulling away. "Where's Dad?"

"Where is he usually? Working."

"Ah," she replied, pressing her lips together in a brief moment of remorse for her father, who she equally never saw. It was a shame – things had never been the same since… the accident.

It had been 9 years and nothing had changed.

Allowing herself a moment to reflect, she pulled herself together quickly and jumped in the shower to prepare herself for work. Everything she did that morning was with more energy, despite the sudden awakening. Even with only 30 minutes to get herself from bed to work and looking presentable, Jess managed to arrive to work with a few seconds to spare and with her mothers' only lipstick subtly dabbed onto her lips before she arrived. It had been a last minute donation just before she dashed out of the door, as Zenobia's maternal intuition had told her Jess may have been trying to impress someone from the way she was acting.

As Jess arrived to the ward, she noticed that once again her shift pattern had coincided with the nurses' breaks, leaving her by herself to monitor Peeta's condition. Prim was one of the nurses on call at the time, and seemed partially reluctant to leave her by herself.

"Are you sure you'll be okay by yourself again?"

"Your break isn't that long, Prim. Don't worry."

"I know, but I've barely seen you – don't you want me to stay to help out at least for a minute?" Prim asked, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Honestly, I'm… ok," Jess replied with a smile, actually looking forward to having some time alone with Peeta. Although she tried not to let it show, Prim still seemed to manage to pick up on her change in attitude from that of a week ago, and a cheeky grin began on her lips.

"Okay… well, I'll see you in an hour."

Her heart rate began to increase as she approached the glass through which she would be able to see Peeta. A strange feeling which she could only assume were the butterflies in her stomach – from what she'd heard from some of her nurses talking about their crushes in various departments – started to rise, and the jump in her heart rate could be felt through her chest. Ever since the comment Peeta had made about her eyes… the strange feelings that she couldn't place before had multiplied by a hundred. It was new.

The one-way glass loomed closer and she decided to walk a little quieter and peek around the corner to see if he was awake. But he wasn't – he rested with his eyes shut, looking content.

Jess opened the door quietly and approached him, stethoscope in hand, in order to have an excuse for being next to him if a nurse unexpectedly came back from her break early. She let out a deep, accidental sigh as she observed his sleeping expression – he was smiling slightly, and she wondered what he could have been dreaming about. Perhaps a memory from home, or maybe even a dream like hers, where he ran free of the Capitol and all responsibility. Absent mindedly, her hand reached out to rest on his shoulder in a caring gesture without her even noticing, which broadened his dreaming smile and made her giggle quietly.

The slight noise of Jess letting out a laugh woke him, though it wasn't as sudden as it had been the day before. It was a peaceful awakening, and she found herself slightly envious of this – her method of waking up this morning hadn't been quite so gentle. But she remained where she stood as he slowly came to, strangely less nervous than she had been when entering the ward, and gently stroked her thumb across his shoulder subconsciously.

"Hm…" Peeta inhaled deeply as he woke, and looked up at his doctor, smiling as he eyes came into focus. "Oh, hello."

"Good morning," she replied quietly, gazing at him for a brief moment before realizing she was at work and clearing her throat. "Do you mind if I use alcohol?"

"Alcohol? Isn't that frowned upon at work?"  
>"On your wounds," Jess clarified with a chuckle, knowing he was trying to be funny. "Those lacerations on your ankles and wrists and… well everywhere, aren't going to clear <em>themselves<em> up. I was asking in case you'd prefer I numb you first – the alcohol is going to sting."

"I'm sure I've been through worse," Peeta admitted, his eyes glazing over for a moment, remembering the Games, she assumed. "Hit me."

"Well ok," Jess obliged and fetched the rubbing alcohol and gauze. It was a rather primitive way of preventing infection before grafting on more skin if necessary, but it worked. As she came back over with all the appropriate equipment, she paused.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sure you're aware, but… the lacerations aren't just on your wrists and ankles, Peeta."

"Oh," Peeta blushed and chuckled at his embarrassment. "You're right," he winced as she started to move his arms in order to remove his hospital tunic.

"No, no. I've got it," Jess offered, and began to assist him in taking off his top, torn between wincing at how painful the welts in his skin appeared and averting her eyes due to how attracted to him she was. It was ridiculous – she was his doctor, and he was the patient. Peeta seemed to notice her nerves.

"Are you ok?"

"Yes, I, um… they just look very painful," she admitted; only giving half of the truth on purpose.

"So," Peeta began to make conversation to ease the tension between them. "I was told I was treated pretty bad in the Capitol."

Jess looked up suddenly, amazed at how lightly he was taking the whole situation. "That's brave of you, Peeta. You can see the wounds on your body, and I'm sure you can feel the ones in your mind. I wouldn't say 'pretty bad' covers it, particularly."

"I know, but as I say, I've been through a fair amount of injury in my life. Really," he nodded down to faint burn scars on his arms, partially covered in fresh wounds. "Those are from my mother."

"Tough home life, huh," Jess tried to keep conversation as light as possible in the circumstance.

"Yeah. Those are from hot pokers. Never had it too great in my house, really."

"I know it's nothing on you, but my home life isn't exactly the best it could be."

"Ah—how so?" Peeta enquired as he winced through the pain of the pure alcohol making contact with his wounds. Jess smiled apologetically and took this as a sign to be finished on his ankles and begin on his chest.

"Well, we used to have a fairly standard family. My mother who you've heard about; my father, Tiberius. And, my brother… Oliver." Jess took a brief pause in cleaning Peeta's lacerations to close her eyes and inhale deeply, in preparation for what was bound to come. A slip in conversation was all it took for the rare occasion of the story of her brother to arise.

"Your brother? You haven't mentioned him before," Peeta smiled, keen to learn more about her. "What does he do?"

"Well not much anymore, considering he passed away when I was nine years old," Jess smiled slightly attempting to keep the topic light, before realizing how heavy it had come out. All it took to see this was watching Peeta's face drop.

"I am so sorry," he looked down, embarrassed.

"It's alright, honestly," she smiled. "It's been nine years, Peeta."

"I've lost people too; all my brothers. I know… I know what it's like," he attempted to reconcile her.

"I know." Jess smiled, and the two of them exchanged a warm smile of sympathy. As she was leaned over his torso slightly in order to get a better view of which parts of him she was cleaning, Peeta was close enough to reach his hand up and place his hand on her cheek and slowly rub his thumb across in a caring motion, making her skin tingle. They both shared a sigh as they wallowed in each other's gaze, before Jess moved away just slightly, enough for him to drop his hand back to its original position. As much as she instantly regretted her decision to break their contact, it was important for her to remain professional for as long as she was on shift, at least.

For a while, they both remained quiet in reflection of the moment they had just shared and Jess continued to clean his wounds, content in the notion that it wasn't just her who was feeling things between the two of them. As her cleaning process reached his chest, she forced herself to actually look at him as a challenge – to see how long she could go without blushing. She was going to be seeing a lot of Peeta as a patient, and she needed to get used to it.

Before she knew what had hit her, she was giggling under her breath and unable to control it, which obviously confused Peeta.

"What? Am I funny?" He asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"No, no," she reassured him, covering her mouth. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to laugh, and it's not deliberate. I'm just..." she sighed, embarrassed. "I'm just quite nervous."

Requiring no further explanation, Peeta merely closed his eyes and smiled smugly, clearly realizing he had an effect on Jess. Not wanting him to have the last say on the matter, she gently but deliberately added a little extra alcohol into his next wound near his collarbone.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed playfully, knowing she was doing it on purpose. "I'm in so much pain, please, doctor, more morphling."

"Oh, shut up." Jess grinned and tucked her hair behind her ears.

"Hey," Prim announced her presence as she entered the room, and both Jess and Peeta stopped their banter.

"Hey, Prim," Jess greeted her before ceasing rubbing alcohol into Peeta's chest. If she continued, her efforts could be misconstrued as unnecessary and that she just wanted to spend time with her patient – time and efficiency were two of the most valuable commodities in District 13. Returning to her equipment, she piled it all back onto the steel trolley that she had brought it in on and pushed it back into the observation room. As she left, she could hear Prim and Peeta making light conversation.

Whilst she remained in the observation room, she turned around for a brief moment to organize the paperwork that had been taken over the last twelve hours for Peeta's condition by her nurses, leaving Peeta under Prim's care. It all looked good – his vitals were definitely improving with no more sudden dips or peaks in his pulse in his reversions to hijacking therapy, showing his psychological condition was improving ahead of schedule, and—

"JESS!"

Her train of thought was interrupted to Prim called her name from inside the treatment room where Peeta was suddenly yelling and tossing around on his bed, fighting to get free from his wires. Prim was stood at the edge of the relatively small room, backed against the wall, clearly frightened at his sudden change in behaviour.

Running into the room to help Prim, Peeta's shouting became much louder and included many profanities that didn't at all suit his personality.

"Prim, what happened?!"

"Peeta just asked what I'd been up to recently and I mentioned that I'd been seeing more of Katniss, and…"

"You _what_?!"

"I just mentioned Katniss briefly!"

"That's his trigger, Prim! Oh, god. Please could you go and get some security – just keep them in the obs room for now, though, we don't want to scare him even more."

Prim nodded and ran from the room, widely avoiding Peeta's birth as he kicked off and tried to worsen the wounds on his arms.

"Peeta! Stop!"

Her cry for him to stop had no effect on him – his eyes remained fixated on his arms as his hand clawed at his just-healing cuts on his arms. She didn't know what to do – she was trained in psychology, but only theoretically, and the only procedure she had been taught in her time as a doctor to stop this kind of situation was to go straight for the drug to knock him straight out. But Peeta was already dosed pretty high on his morphling today, as well as anti-psychotics to get him on the road to recovery from his mental abuse in the Capitol, and Jess didn't have the time to add up his doses in order to make sure a jab to his artery wouldn't throw him off the edge into an overdose coma. She needed to find a way to calm him down, and soon.

Listening out for the observation room, she heard no signs of Prim returning with backup any time soon. So she did the only thing she could think of in the spur of the moment to help him – she decided to throw herself right into the firing line of his hijacking fit.

"Peeta!" she called as she ran over to his flailing body, and started by trying to restrain his arms from causing him any more damage. She reached out both of her hands in an attempt to stop just one of them from either causing or receiving damage, and went for the one that was currently clawing into his now gaping wound in his right arm.

"Peeta, stop!" She grabbed onto his arm and, just as her skin gained contact with his, his arm reflexively lurched backwards and in one, quick motion, his hand collided with her face, sending her to the floor.

He didn't seem to have noticed what he had done in his crazed state and she was determined not to give up on him just yet, so she got up to her knees and moved to kneel by the side of his bed, careful not to try to restrain him this time.

"Please. Listen to me. The things you're thinking right now aren't real – those are images that the Capitol put into your head. Ok?"

He continued to yell and threaten to a presence that wasn't in the room, but Jess decided to go on trying to calm him down.

"Peeta, look at me," she begged, staying on her knees by his bed but in sight of him. "Look at me. You know me. You know me, right?"

He paused in his fit and slowed down to a frantic scratching of his arms, but stopped trying to pull the hair out of his own head. He looked at her face and looked perplexed – the way an animal would look at a human when trying to understand a command. But that was enough for now; she had his attention.

"The things in your head right now aren't real. And even if they were, which they're not – you're safe now, right? Look around. We're looking after you – I'm here for you. You know I'd never hurt you, right?"

The glazing over his eyes started to fade and she could see the light returning into his eyes as she started to return to the room.

"You'd never hurt me," Peeta repeated her words, as if trying to understand them.

"Right, you're right, I'd never hurt you. I'm right here for you. It's ok. You're safe," Jess continued to try to reassure him. "No one here is ever going to hurt you."

"You'd never hurt me…" he repeated again, looking at her and nodding, finally believing the words. His eyes were still glazed over, though, and he began to look away again.

"Peeta, hey, look at me. Look at me. I'm right here," Jess continued, trying to keep his focus on her to keep him in the room, as every time he looked away his pulse seemed to go up. "It's ok."

His breathing slowed to near normal and, as if someone had flicked a switch in his mind, he was back to himself again, dazed. He looked down at his arm's recently reopened and gaping wounds, shaking his head slowly in confusion, coming to terms with his involuntary lashing out. And then his gaze fell on Jess' face, and his expression dropped to pure shock. As far as she was aware her face wasn't that bad at all, just a little sore – but as she leant up to look into the glass, reflective like a mirror on this side, she noticed that her lip was busted and bleeding, along with a fairly painful bruise which was already forming on her cheekbone just under her eye. She returned to look at Peeta, and continued to try to reassure him. She didn't care about the pain – she was just happy he was back.

"Did, did I…"

"It's ok, don't worry about it."

He looked away from her no longer in shock, but in anger – at himself. He clenched his jaw in his emotion, and turned back to her, torn between being upset and in a state of total rage at his own actions.

"I am so sorry," he furrowed his brow deeply in concern for her welfare, before flipping back to his angry self and not wanting to see the marks he had made.

"I would never… I would never do anything like that on purpose. I am so, so, so, sorry. I can't even express how sorry I am. I'm…" he turned to look at her once more, and the anger in his voice and expression started to break. His eyes were remorseful, and were also starting to fill up slightly. "Jess, I—"

"Peeta, it's ok, hey, hey," she tried to keep his attention again as he started to clench his jaw. "It's okay, it doesn't even hurt that much. You should be more worried about your arm," she smiled caringly, nodding at the gaping hole in his forearm that he had torn in his fit of rage.

"I couldn't care less about my arm," Peeta stated flatly as he looked around Jess' face. His hand once more came to rest upon her cheek, and he let out another deep sigh as a tear spilled over.

"Hey, shh. Stop that. It's ok."

Interrupting Peeta's apology, security guards burst into the room; both late and uninvited.

"Ms. Lockhearst, are you alright?" The tallest one asked as he took a second to assess the state of the room. Jess turned to look at the security guard to reassure him she was fine and that he could leave, exposing the side of her face, which was clearly marked. Both guards instantly drew out their pistols.

"Oh, really," Jess stood up suddenly in anger to address the situation. "Is that necessary? I think you can see from both of our body language that there is no longer an issue in this room – I thank you for your presence, but it truly is no longer needed and, frankly, I can just tell you that you are distressing my patient," she gestured a hand at Peeta who was sitting upright in his bed accordingly. "Please return to your posts and, for God's sake, put down your guns."

The security guards nodded and silently left the room. Prim remained stood in the doorway and closed the door after them.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for them to come straight in."

"It's ok, Prim. Give us a minute?"

"Sure," Prim obliged as she retreated to the obs room to busy herself with some paperwork.

Jess turned back to face Peeta. "Are you ok?"

"No. I'm pissed at myself."

"Don't be," she smiled. "It's ok."

"I just want you to know that I would never," Peeta paused to keep his emotions under control before continuing. "I would never purposefully hurt you."

"And I would never hurt you," Jess responded with a reassuring smile. "It's alright."

He merely smiled apologetically in response and there was a moment of comfortable silence between them.

"Now," Jess continued. "Let's get that arm patched up again, shall we?"


End file.
